


I Hate You, I Love You

by wednesdays__child



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-06 07:05:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8739463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wednesdays__child/pseuds/wednesdays__child
Summary: Spencer heads home after hearing the news that Hotch isn't coming back.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: Season 12, Episode 5 Elliott's Pond
> 
> Author's Note: Title and quotes from the song "i hate u, i love u" by gnash.
> 
> Unbetaed - sorry. All mistakes are my own.

*************

_**Do you miss me like I miss you? Fucked around and got attached to you. Friends can break your heart too, and I'm always tired but never of you. - gnash** _

Sitting on the Metro was usually a meditative event for Spencer after a case. Most of the team thought it was that he didn't like to drive but it wasn't that at all. He enjoyed driving but the soft roll of the cars and constant hum of people around him could lull Spencer's mind into a peaceful place where he could sit back and think of something other than the constant roar of figures and numbers and facts and quotes and chess moves and anything else that his overactive mind vomited inside his head. Most of them called his intellect a gift - most of the time, he knew it was a curse to remember everything.

But not tonight.

Tonight, his brain was focused on one thing. Hotch. Hotch was gone. Really gone. Not off on assignment like they had been told _Orders from above, Spencer. Can't get out of this time._ Not working somewhere else outside cell range _So if I don't respond to your texts, it's not that I'm ignoring you. I probably just won't get them_. But gone. WitSec. Poor Jack. Having to run away twice because evil men are after you? Maybe he's the superhero and not Hotch and they have to keep him away from the greatest evil until he can grow into powers.

WitSec meant no contact. None. Anything, even the simplest text could compromise their location and they would be moved. He understood. Of course he did. It didn't make it any easier.

Spencer pulled a leather bound journal out of his messenger bag and opened to the next blank page, pen poised over the paper, ready to accepted the words Spencer couldn't voice _What's that, Spence? Just a journal, Jack. I use it to write things down and it helps me to see where my thoughts are going when things get all jumbled in my head. I started when I was about your age. You should try it_.

He wondered suddenly if Jack ever started his own journal. It would be good for the boy with all he'd been through. The thought pulled a strangled sob from his throat before he could choke it down. He looked around, wondering if anyone had noticed but everyone around was absorbed in their own worlds. No one cared that Spencer's was crashing down around him.

The pen began to move and Spencer spared a thought to wonder if anyone would ever read these. He supposed somewhere in the distance future, someone would find the dozens upon dozens of journals he'd kept over the years. Some filled with prose. Others with complex equations of mathematics and chemicals and ideas that might someday change the world. Some were filled with sketches of people and creatures and landscapes and whatever caught his fancy. Others have page after page of just the word FUCK repeated over and over increasingly harder and harsher and more erratic until they are followed by odd disconnected, disjointed words and sketches that look like they were written by someone else entirely. One book has seventeen pages of the single curse word scribbled on it mottled with spots that are now wrinkled and smudged from the wetness that fell onto them.

He wondered what they would think reading them.

He wondered what Hotch would think reading them _They are your thought, Spencer. I wouldn't want to invade your privacy like that. But thank you for asking. It makes me happy knowing that you would trust me with something so intimate_.

And he did. He trusted Hotch with everything. His life. His heart. He would have trusted Hotch with his body if he'd had the chance, if they'd had the chance to get that far _I need to go slow, Spencer. I'm sorry. After Beth..._.

He understood. He'd needed to go slow too _...and Maeve_.

But the nights they had spent together were still sweet in his mind _God, Spence. Your lips are so soft. Do you always taste like peppermint or do you just mainline mints all day. I could spend all night just kissing you_. And they had. Tangled together on Hotch's overlarge couch _I learned the value of having a comfy couch with Haley_ simply sharing breath and lips and tongues and teeth and enjoying being **this** close to someone.

Kisses had turned into touches, tentative at first since neither of them had ever been with another man before but it was exciting and different and they both enjoyed finding the similarities _I can't believe you like me being so hairy. It always bothered me. I like how smooth your chest is, but this is my favorite_. Learning how to pleasure someone with the same equipment was strangely easy and wholly satisfying _Yes, Spence, right there. Just a little more pressure. Yesss. Now twist at the top. Fuck. That's it. Perfect. You're perfect_.

The train stopped and several occupants stood to get off, bumping and jolting Spencer out of his memories. He looked up to see how soon he needed to depart and was startled to see he only had one stop remaining. Looking down at the journal, he read the words that had poured out while he reminisced.

**Feeling used but I'm still missing you and I can't see the end of this. Just want to feel your kiss against my lips. And now all this time is passing by but I still can't seem to tell you why it hurts me every time I think of you - realize how much I need you.**

**I hate you I love you I hate that I love you. Don't want to but I can't put nobody else above you.**

**I miss you when I can't sleep or right after coffee or right when I can't eat. I miss you in my front seat. I miss you and Jack and your apartment and your bed.**

**I know we had to keep it on the low as Derek would say but I know you're in love with me but our friends don't know. Do you wonder what we could have been? You said you wouldn't hurt me but you fucking did. Lie to me, lie with me, get your fucking fix. Now all my drinks and thoughts and feelings are all fucking mixed. Always missing people. Always left behind.**

**Always.**

**I hate you I love you I hate you I love you I hate you**

**I love you**

Spencer clicked the pen closed and delicately slipped the journal back into his bag. Wiping his eyes, he stood and moved toward the door. It was time to go home and forget about all that was hidden inside his journal, his head, his heart.


	2. Something

*************

Spencer went through his normal routine as he entered his apartment; keys in the bowl by the door, shoes kicked off and placed in the stand by the door, and gun secured in the small safe in the hallway. Setting his messenger bag on the table, he pulled out the journal before placing the bag on the floor.

Making a decision, Spencer reached into the closet and pulled out the keyboard. It was been a while since he used it and now he felt like he needed to do this. Setting it on the kitchen table, he turned it on before running his fingers over the keys, slowly remembering the patterns and scales that he's learned from Sammy. After he'd come home from Lafayette Parish, he'd continued to learn some songs, playing with melody and harmony and dissonance _I'm surprised you still play, Spence. Rossi said you'd never played before you met Sammy. Well, if cooking is chemistry then music is mathematics.- counting, rhythm, scales, intervals, patterns? It's all just math._

Fingers flowing over the keys, Spencer recalled the patterns and notes from what Spencer called "Sammy's song" in his mind. He settled into the music, letting it roll over him and trying to let it soothe his soul. _Why do you like The Beatles so much? I find it soothing to my soul._ Spencer understood the need to lose yourself in something outside his own mind. _When I was a kid and nothing seemed right and it felt like the world was crushing down on me, it was like they were singing to me, about me, about my pain. Plus, my dad hated them, so I figured that was bonus points_

He opened the journal and looked at the words he wrote on his trip home. Could he do this? Should he do this? _George Harrison? I figured you'd say John and even Paul. Nope. Paul and John wrote more but George had some really quality songs. Something and While My Guitar Gently Weeps are some of my all time favorites_. Learning Hotch's preference in songwriters led Spencer to want to learn more, listen to more, try more.

Opening his journal, he turned to the page he'd written in on the way home. Slowly, he started to rearrange the words and add some more as they seemed to pour from his heart and soul:

 **Always missing people that I shouldn't be missing. Sometimes you gotta burn some bridges just to create some distance. I know that I control my thoughts and I should stop reminiscing but I learned from my friends that it's good to have feelings. When love and trust are gone - I guess this moving on. Everyone I do right does me wrong so every lonely night, I sing this song**.

Placing his fingers on the keys, a slow, melancholy tune began to sound. Spencer loved playing in minor keys, reveled in the dissonance and conflict in the music. He found beauty in the odd and music was no different for him _Sometimes a song that has sad words has music that makes you feel uncomfortable. It's okay to be uncomfortable now and then, Spencer_. It wasn't as easy as it sounded. The patterns he played kept drifting to familiar tunes and words seemed to stick in his throat. They didn't fit with the notes that sounded from his fingers.

So he let his fingers roam and he smiled as the remembered song clicked into place _Something in the way he moves - attracts me like no other lover. Something in the way he woos me_.

He tried to sing the song but his higher tenor couldn't match Aaron's rich baritone. Spencer remembered how it felt, that vibrating bass from Hotch's chest pressed to his back while he sang in Spencer's ear as he played. He settled for humming and continued to play, unaware of the wetness on his cheeks.

 _It sounds better played on the guitar_. Hotch had laughed when he found out Spencer had a turntable so they could listen to the song as it was originally intended. He'd protested when Aaron took his hand and slowly guided them toward the middle of the living room. _I don't know how to dance. It's okay, I do. Just follow my lead._

His fingers faltered. It did sound better played on the guitar, but Spencer couldn't bring himself to stop playing to put the album on. _I never got a chance to dance with Maeve. I know...but at least you'll never be able to say that about me_. Slamming both hands down, a horrible sound escaped Spencer's lips - pain, anguish, loss _I don't want to leave him now. You know I believe and how_.

Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door. Spencer took in a shuddering breath and got himself under control. He looked at the clock and was startled to discover it was already nearly ten-thirty. None of his neighbors would be disturbing him for the keyboard so he had no idea why someone would be at his door. He quickly wiped his face before retrieving his gun from the safe. 

Quietly, he walked toward the door and looked out his secondary peephole - a leftover from a warning from Emily. He was surprised to see a man, mid-twenties, shaggy, dark brown hair, deep brown eyes. "Yes?" he called through the door.

"Dr. Spencer Reid?"

"Yes. How can I help you?"

"Courier service. I have a message for you."

Confused, Spencer stepped back and holstered his weapon. He opened the door, but left the chain on. The man in the hallway smiled. It was slightly crooked but warm and sincere. "Do I need to sign for it?"

"No, but you need to pay attention, Spencer."

The words were like a slap to the face. "What did you just say?"

"I have special instructions for this message and one them was to tell you that you need to pay attention, Spencer."

Opening the door all the way, Spencer stood in front of the courier, needing some answers.

"Are you ready?" the man asked.

Spencer simply nodded before he was handed a small note. Unfolding the paper, he was surprised that it was so short. 

**SR. Find Jack. He's helping me work the case.**

**455017735673**

**AH**

Spencer stared at the paper, quietly processing the information. It wasn't Aaron's handwriting so he must have called the service to have the message sent. Smart. Aaron was always so smart. After a minute, the man at the door cleared his throat.

"Sorry but I have very specific instructions." The courier reached out and took the sheet of paper out of Spencer's hands. "You get all that?"

"Yeah, I think so," Spencer whispered. "Do this often?"

"Specialty service. We cater to clients that require a large amount of discretion." The courier then quickly tore up the note into tiny pieces before placing them in a larger envelope and slid it into his messenger bag, not so different from Spencer's own. 

"Can I send a return message?"

"Nope. I have no way to contact the client."

Smart. Always so smart. 

"So you were never here?"

"Never where?"

Spencer watched as the courier turned and walked down the hall and then the stairs without a single glance back. He shut the door and returned his gun to the safe. Leaning against the door, he thought about the words from Aaron. _It was the only thing I could think to do to keep him safe. I'm just so glad that he remembered to hide in the window seat in my office_. Window seat. Spencer didn't have a window seat. So what was Hotch talking about?

Suddenly, Spencer remembered the large trunk he had in his reading room. Jack had hidden in it once when they were playing hide and seek in his apartment. Aaron had been the one to find him in it. The boy was crying when he'd gotten there and opened it up. _I was working the case, Dad. Just like before. Working the case. I know, buddy. I know._ The rush of memories was unexpected, for both Jack then and for Spencer now. He ran for the trunk, throwing it open and nearly knocking it over in his haste.

He stared down at the small present waiting for him. It was beautiful, red and silver wrapping, all ready for Christmas. He lifted it up and stared at it for a moment. How had Aaron got it in here? He looked up and noticed a piece of paper tucked away, up and under the lining of the lid of the trunk, hidden where most people wouldn't look for it.

He unfolded it and gasped at the messy, uneven scrawl. It was undoubtedly Aaron's handwriting but it was obviously scribbled quickly, possibly even as he was riding in a car. Some of the writing was smudged when he rubbed his hand over the paper, not able to take the care he would with anything else.

Spencer quickly read:

**Spencer,**

**I wanted to come find you to explain all this to you but there is no time and they won't let me talk to you before we go so this will have to do.**

**Please know I don't want to go. I want to stay. I want to find him but just like with J.J. and Emily, I don't have a choice. The order is coming from higher than even I can fight. Cruz and the AD came to the apartment with several agents and no one is leaving without us. I told the AD that I have a Christmas present for you and that Jack had left some of his school books at your apartment so they are letting us stop there before we head to the airport.**

**They asked me who I want for Unit Chief now that I'm gone. I don't know why they bothered. Maybe it's a concession of sorts since they are pulling us away from everything and everyone we know. I told them Emily. She's going to come back. Don't be mad I didn't say you. I need you to be working this case, Spencer. If you were Unit Chief you'd have paperwork and budget meetings and performance reviews and so many distractions. I need to find him, Spencer. Find Scratch and stop him. Since I can't now, I need you to end this.**

**The way they are talking right now, I don't think they are going to let me come home, so I'm asking you for one more thing.**

**Come find me, Spencer.**

**I'm so sorry about all of this. Another person gone, another letter saying goodbye. I don't want this to be goodbye. I love you, Spencer. I never said it because I was scared so this will have to do. I love you. Please find me. I'll find some way to let you know where I am. We are at your apartment now so I have to go. I'm so sorry.**

**Stop him and find me. You're the only one who can.**

**Waiting,**

**Aaron**

Spencer stared at the note for several moments. So John knew and never said anything to him. Did John know about him and Aaron? Did he let Aaron come over because he knew that he would leave a note? Even leaving a present was too dangerous for Aaron while he and Jack were in protective custody. What did all of this mean?

Aaron said he didn't have a choice but to go. But did that really matter? He still left. He was gone and Spencer didn't know if he would ever see him again.

Find him. 

Find him but how? Suddenly he remembered the note and all the numbers listed there. What could they mean? Aaron said he'd find a way to let Spencer know where he was. Did that note tell him? Maybe. 

Spencer turned his attention to the present. Aaron had bought him a present, months ago by the look of it. He hadn't even bothered to consider a present for Aaron. What had Hotch found for him all those months before? Taking a deep breath, Spencer slowly opened the lid of the present, bracing himself for what was hidden inside. The first thing he saw was a small note written in Aaron tight looping script, as if he took time and care in writing it.

**Spencer, So you have something to keep you warm. And on the days when I can't hold you, this can be like my arms around you and no one but us will know. Yours always and Merry Christmas, Aaron.**

Spencer lifted the tissue paper to reveal the softest looking scarf he had ever seen. Dragging his fingertips over the baby soft wool, he smiled at the lovely design of purple with thin stripes of grey, navy and pink. It was something he would pick for himself. Pulling it from the box, he wrapped it around his neck before burying his nose in the fabric. Aaron must have worn it before wrapping it, or else he had put some of his aftershave on it, because it smelled so perfectly of Aaron it made Spencer's heart ache. _One of these days I'm just going to grab you right in the middle of the bullpen and kiss you right in front of everyone. Wanna take bets on who would freak out more; Dave or Luke?_ Now that would never happen and they would never know. Spencer's money was still on Dave. 

Curling his legs up under him next to the trunk, Spencer read the note over and over, sure he was missing something. Suddenly it hit him. He jumped up and ran to his laptop, ready to check his theory. He paused, his fingertips millimeters over the keys. What if they were watching him, monitoring his computer or phone? He wouldn't put it past them, not with all the other precautions they had already taken with Aaron and Jack's safety.

Instead, he dragged out his atlas, quickly turning page after page until he found what he was looking for: 45.5017 N, 73.5673W - Coordinates. 

Smart. Aaron was so smart.

Montreal. They had sent them to Canada. It was a logical choice. Aaron spoke French so he could easily fit in and no one would be looking for an American FBI agent in Canada. But Montreal was a big city. How would Spencer find him once all this was done? What if it took too long and Aaron forgot him, or worse moved on?

Spencer put those thoughts out of his mind. First things first. 

Find Mr. Scratch and stop him.

Then find Aaron.

It was something he had to do.

Something.

_When love and trust are gone - I guess this is moving on._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. Karl (my asshole muse) and I are currently fighting about this fic. I am now expanding this to being 4 chapters long since he won't let me make this happy yet (see? He's an asshole!)
> 
> Also, he wants to wait and see what the show is going to do with the whole Mr. Scratch storyline and I say screw that!! This is my timeline and I'll do what I want.
> 
> We will see what he lets me do. *sigh* Stupid muse.


	3. Sinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron waits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title and quote from the song "Sinking Man" by Of Monsters and Men.
> 
> Quotes from episodes Damaged - Season 3, episode 14 and Route 66 - Season 9, episode 5.

*************

_I pushed you away although I wished you could stay. So many words left unsaid, but I'm all out of breath. - Of Monsters and Men_

Aaron stood at the sink, staring out the kitchen window at the beautiful day outside. So close to Christmas but the sun was shining and it made everything look magical in the snow. Cleaning up breakfast after the boys was always a chore but he enjoyed it. It made him feel needed again. Jack and his friends always offered to help but the one time Aaron had let them help, they ended up making a bigger mess than when they started, so Aaron always took on the task.

He smiled as he watched his son ride his bike down the street with his friends. Jack had settled...mostly. _Christ, dad. You think I don't know what you're doing? It's not like I haven't been in therapy enough to figure you out. You're not a subtle as you think._ He'd grown to love this place and Aaron was loathe to drag him away again, force him to make a new place in the world again. 

Rinsing off the last plate before placing it in the dishwasher, Aaron froze. The black SUV drove up the street before passing the house and he could almost swear he saw a shock of curly chestnut hair.

He shook his head. It wasn't him, it never was.

Aaron had waited and Spencer never came. He'd waited and watched. He read every piece of news he could find on the BAU and the reclamation of the escaped killers. He'd followed the case and the team and it was all that held him together some days. His son resented him and he had no one else to lean on. His support system was nonexistent and he felt like he was sinking beneath the waves of self-doubt and worry. 

It took the team nearly seven months before they ended the case and Mr. Scratch was gone. He would never hurt anyone ever again - Spencer had made sure of that. Sure, Peter Lewis was a chemistry genius but the BAU had a genius with a PhD in chemistry of their own and when Lewis was dosed with a cocktail of his own drugs with an addition from Spencer, it had completely shattered his mind. He was not dead but lost in a prison of his own making - lost in the twisted universe of his mind. 

Mr. Scratch was gone.

For the first few weeks after Aaron heard the news, he'd jumped every time someone drove down their street or knocked on the door. The phone was snatched up and answered immediately without bothering to check the caller ID. 

The case was over. Spencer was coming. He was sure of it. 

It was nearly a month later before he heard from the BAU and it wasn't the one member he wanted. 

Emily smiled at him, the joy not quite reaching her eyes. He'd invited her in and the meeting was short and to the point. _You caught him. We did. Thank you._

She went through the investigation and capture as Aaron carefully read the file. Spencer had taking the lead in the case, had studied Lewis and used his own knowledge of chemistry to bring Mr. Scratch down. _He was laser focused on this case. The only time I've even seen anyone else like that, it was you - with Foyet._ It made Aaron smile.

But Prentiss was there and Spencer was not. _He can't come, Hotch. You know why_. And he couldn't go back. _It's part of the agreement. I read the contract. You are officially permanently retired from the FBI. You're both out of protective custody, you and Jack, but the conditions you agreed to say you can't come back_.

But it was okay. Aaron knew that Spencer was coming for him. All he had to do was wait.

For months, he'd watched and waited. Every unusual vehicle that drove down his street was watched and profiled, every 'Unknown Caller' was answered with his heart in his throat, every unmarked letter torn open like he was a kid at Christmas. And every time it wasn't Spencer it chipped away a little at his resolve and he began to doubt. 

He needed something to do but nothing was holding his interest. He couldn't consult on cases, not with his created identity. He really didn't need to work, not with the package that he'd been offered, but sitting around and waiting was not doing Aaron any favors. Sure, he was probably in the best shape of his life. With all of his free time, he had been able to run like he'd always wanted. Just before the one year mark of being gone, Aaron completed his first marathon. The medal hung on the wall by itself, just like he had been when he crossed the finish line. This time, there was no team cheering him on, no waving flags, no smiles, no grimaces of hungover women, no signs with glitter. Just him a son texting on his phone. One who didn't care about the medal slipped around his neck as he just muttered "Good job, old man."

But he could only workout so much and Jack had kept his father at arms length. He didn't shut Aaron out completely, but he was distant and hurt and nothing Aaron did seemed to be working. Therapy was helping - for both of them. But it was slow going and the bridges they needed to repair were in such ruins that he knew it would take a long time - so long - he wondered if they would ever get across them. 

So he turned to writing. Oddly enough, Aaron missed the paperwork he was required to complete as Unit Chief, missed putting pen to paper, so he began to write. At first, his ideas were simple: short stories, ideas from cases and things he had learned over the years in the field. But as he wrote, his thoughts grew dark and monsters arose and before he knew it, it was more Stephen King than Tom Clancy. It helped in its own way and once his first collection of short stories was picked up by an online publisher, Aaron felt like he was doing something real again. 

He sent a text once, hoping that by reaching out, he'd get something back.

**_Missing you._ **

No response. Nothing.

By the year and a half mark, he began to lose all hope. It was almost a year since they'd caught Scratch. It was clear. Spencer didn't want him. Maybe Aaron had deluded himself into thinking the younger man had really wanted him. _Want you, Aaron_. Maybe all he wanted was a casual thing, a way to release tension _Need you_. Aaron was convenient - he knew how it worked, understood the job, the nightmares, the absences _I know it's late but I'd love for you to come over_. He wasn't a catch, he knew that. He was a middle aged man with trust issues and PTSD and a son who resented him _I'm sorry Aaron. It's not you, really, but this job in Hong Kong is too important to pass up_. He knew he needed to smile more, express himself, loosen up _Jeez Louise, loosen up a little bit. Would it kill you to smile? Seriously_ , but the only time he really felt comfortable was with his team and the only time he felt like himself was with Spencer.

Spencer who never came.

His neighbor was sweet. Mrs. Monroe _Miss Jana, please. That's what all the neighbors call me_ was a widow and seemed intent on making Aaron and Jack, or Michael and Jackson as they were calling themselves now, as comfortable as possible. She'd tried to set Aaron up on several dates with some local women. When he didn't seem to show any interest, she'd switched to men. But none of them did anything for him, they weren't what he wanted. They were too normal, too boring. They didn't ramble or know any odd facts about the average rainfall in Sacramento in December _Eleven point six eight inches_ or the origin of Christmas _Many popular customs associated with Christmas developed independently of the commemoration of Jesus' birth, with certain elements having origins in pre-Christian festivals that were celebrated around the Winter Solstice by pagan populations who were later converted to Christianity, specifically the holiday of Satunalia_. He wanted shaggy hair and long, elegant fingers and hazel eyes and a crooked smile.

For a moment around the two year mark, Aaron considered going to find Spencer. If the younger man wouldn't come to Aaron, he would go to him. He'd sat alone in his living room, now empty bottle of scotch at his elbow, watched episode after episode of Star Trek, and had an imaginary conversation with the source of his pain.

_You never came for me._

_Was I just a distraction or a conquest? Did you lose a bet or something? That's it, isn't it? You bet Morgan you could bag the boss. I'll bet you were so happy to see me go._

_I thought it was real this time. I loved Haley but she never really understood me, my need to be the hero. I loved Beth, but I wasn't enough for her. She liked the idea of me instead of actually liking me. But you..? God, I loved you. I loved you like I never thought I could love anyone._

_You never came for me._

_You never came._

He continued his routine. Take care of Jack. Get him to school. Ride if the weather was nice. Run when it wasn't. Read some. Look for some inspiration for a story and write when it hits. Fix dinner for Jack and his friends when they came over. Go to bed and obsess over his life and the lack of life in it before crashing in exhaustion. For several months he'd fall asleep on a damp pillow. Often he'd wake up on one. But now, there were no more tears. They would not come. Not anymore. 

He was alone and resigned himself to that fact. Spencer was it for him and now that he was gone, he knew he would always be that way. Aaron was never very good about knowing what he wanted, and even when he did, getting it was something else _What I want, I'm not going to get_. Truer words had never been spoken. 

He was sinking under the weight of his loss, but he'd lost himself long ago. He hadn't been found and he would remain that way.

Lost. 

Wiping down the counters and sink, Aaron finished his routine, just like yesterday and the day before and the day before that. Just like he would tomorrow and the day after and the day after that. 

The soft knock at the front door pulled him from his thoughts and he quickly reached over to grab the kettle, filling it, knowing that Miss Jana would expect some tea. 

"Come in, Miss Jana," he called, knowing the older woman would know to find him in the kitchen. As he reached up to pull down two mugs, the knock sounded again. 

"Come on in," he shouted, louder this time. "I'm in the kitchen."

He set up the cups, Majestic Mint for Miss Jana and Earl Grey for himself, before reaching into the refrigerator for the cream he kept for his neighbor. He heard her enter the kitchen behind him so he turned, making sure to plaster a welcoming smile on his face as he turned to place the cream and sugar on the table for his guest. 

He never made it that far.

He froze halfway there - eyes wide and mouth hanging open in shock. 

Instead of Miss Jana, a vision he never expected to see again stood, smirking at him from the doorway.

Spencer smiled softly, slightly crooked, just like he remembered.

"Hello Aaron."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I promised a happy ending, right? *sigh*


	4. Wild Horses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title and quote from song "Wild Horses" by The Rolling Stones.

*************

_I know I've dreamed you a sin and a lie. I have my freedom but I don't have much time. Faith has been broken tears must be cried. Let's do some living after we die. - Keith Richards and Mick Jagger_

"Hello Aaron."

It couldn't be. It just couldn't. It had finally happened. He'd finally snapped. Maybe the dosings he took from Mr. Scratch had had a delayed reaction and he had actually finally lost his mind. That had to be it because it couldn't be Spencer standing in his kitchen, smiling at him like he hadn't been away for so long, like there had been no time lost between them. His fingers started to go slack and the cream began to slip, spilling slightly on the floor.

"Aaron?" Spencer asked, concern creasing his features. "Are you alright? You're spilling..."

Quickly slamming the cream and sugar on the table, Aaron backed away, wincing as his lower back cracked against the cabinets behind him. He reached up and quickly pinched the skin of his inner right elbow.

_Ouch. Okay, not dreaming._

He knew what was happening but he was completely unable to stop it. He was breathing too fast and his head started to swim. When his vision began to narrow, he tried to speak but the words wouldn't come. In an instant, Spencer was there, hands on his face, forcing him to stare into the hazel eyes he'd seen every night in his dreams.

"Aaron. Aaron! You're having a panic attack. I need to you slow your breathing, okay? You're hyperventilating. Breathe with me, alright? In and out. With me. In and out."

Aaron did as instructed, slowly matching his inhalations and exhalations to match Spencer's. As the panic slowly receded, the nausea hit and he spun around to gag into the sink. The warm hand on his back helped calm him but he was so confused, so lost, he just didn't know what to say. 

Quietly, he turned on the water and let it pool in his hands before taking a small drink and splashing some on his face. He stood there, silently dripping, waiting for something, anything, he just wasn't sure what.

Finally, Spencer broke the silence.

"Hotch? Are you alright?"

Aaron began to laugh. It started small and quiet, just a tiny chuckle deep in his chest. Slowly it grew, bigger, harder, harsher and he didn't know how to stop it.

_This must be what going mad feels like._

Suddenly, he was wrapped in arms, stronger than he remembered. He felt himself being moved, maneuvered toward the chair before being guided to sit. Anger shot through him and he pushed, trying to get away but the hold was tenacious and Spencer wouldn't let up. Falling back with a push, Aaron found himself sitting with a lapfull of skinny genius. 

Laughter turned to tears as Aaron began to cry, soft tears rolling down his cheeks followed by broken sobs before it turned into heartwrenching weeping. Soft words brushed against his ear as Spencer whispered reassurances and tried to calm him.

Finally, he took an exhausted breath as the tears eventually ceased. Spencer never moved, choosing to remain perched in his lap, arms tightly around him. They stayed like that, silent and unmoving until Aaron finally felt cried out.

"Aaron?" Spencer asked. "What was that all about?"

He shook his head, unable to answer just yet, not trusting his voice.

"You didn't think I was coming, did you?"

Aaron shook his head.

"You've been doubting me and beating yourself up all this time?"

Aaron nodded.

"Fuck," Spencer whispered hotly. Leaning back before placing his fingers under Aaron's chin, forcing the other man to look at him. "Didn't Emily tell you?"

Finally trusting his voice, he asked, "Tell me what?"

"Unreal!" Spencer shouted as he quickly leapt off Aaron's lap before pacing around the kitchen. "Unreal! I knew she was upset that I was leaving but this is crazy." Spencer suddenly stopped and turned toward him, staring at the older man. "Come on, Aaron. We need to talk."

Spencer walked over before reaching down to take his hand. Pulling him up, he led Aaron toward the living room and sitting on the couch. Sinking down into the soft cushions, he sighed as Spencer settled in close. The younger man pulled his good leg up and under himself, pressing his thigh against Aaron's. When Aaron refused to meet his eyes, Spencer placed a single finger against his jaw and turned him so they were staring at each other. 

"I want you to listen, okay?" he asked. "No questions and no interruptions. I want you to really hear what I have to say. Understand?"

Lost in the hazel eyes, all he could do was nod.

"Emily was supposed to tell you that I was still coming for you," Spencer began, his voice soft and calming, the same tone he used when he was trying to talk down a skittish Unsub or a frightened victim. He supposed that was called for at the moment. "I wanted to come and tell you myself that we had finished Mr. Scratch but I knew that you had followed the case because of who you are. I needed time, Aaron. I couldn't just leave everything all at once. I couldn't just come to you and then leave again. I couldn't work from here and then there's my mom. There were so many loose ends that I needed to take care of before I could come to you. Mom is...well, she's finally settled. She didn't get a spot in the John Hopkin's study because of the years she was on her antipsychotic medications so I got her set up in the memory care wing of Bennington when the study fell through."

Spencer took a deep breath. Aaron knew this had to be hard for the younger man. His mother was everything to him and knowing that she was slowly slipping away - again - it could almost be too much to bear. 

"I took some of my leave time from the BAU to take her places she'd always wanted to go. We went to Paris and then Ireland. She insisted on a trip to Italy to see the classics and that was fun. We almost made it through her tour of England but about half way through our three weeks there, I lost her. I mean, really lost her. She wandered away from me and when I found her, she didn't know who I was. It all seemed to happen so fast. Logically, I understand that it actually took several months, but I thought she was getting better. She wasn't. She'll never get better and I had to take all the time I could. I didn't want to decide between the two of you. It could never be you or her. It would be like me asking you to choose between me or Jack. You couldn't and it would be wrong of me to ask you. You have to understand, right?"

Aaron took a moment, thinking and processing. Yes. Yes he could understand so he nodded, waiting for Spencer to continue. 

"This isn't just a one time thing for me, Aaron. When you said to come for you, I thought that you meant you wanted me to come to you to stay. If I came right after we caught Scratch, I'd have to leave. I didn't get a nice retirement from the FBI that I can just fall back on, I have my apartment, mom and Henry. It would have been impossible for me to just leave. And now that I'm here, I'm here Aaron."

When the older man didn't say anything, Spencer pushed a little harder. "You do still want me here, don't you, Aaron?"

The question seemed to spur Aaron into action and he grabbed the younger man's hands. "So why didn't you call me or write or anything?" Aaron asked, his voice hiding a a slight shudder. "It was two years, Spencer. I thought...I thought you'd forgotten me."

Spencer snorted a soft laugh. "How do you think you got a publishing deal so quickly? Who do you think your editor is? Seriously? Michael Aaron Read? Worst secret alias ever, Aaron." Leaning forward until their lips were nearly brushing, Spencer whispered, "Besides, how could I ever forget you?"

Aaron sighed, wondering if this was the best or worst thing he could be doing. His mind was conflicted but his heart didn't care. Breaching the distance, Aaron leaned forward, capturing the lips he'd been dreaming of for so long. He sighed when Spencer pressed into the kiss, taking control and directing it where he wanted it to go. Aaron let the younger man take control and do as he wished. All he wanted was for this moment to never end.

When he felt the tip of a soft tongue trace the seam of his lips, Aaron opened them with a soft moan. Spencer took full advantage and thrust his tongue until Aaron's mouth, teasing and tasting him. Aaron nearly choked on the pleasure of it all. Moving swiftly, Spencer straddled his legs, settling himself firmly in Aaron's lap pressing in and pouring every bit of desperation, every ounce of desire he had for the older man into this one kiss. Aaron clung to him, his hands gripping and clawing at the man in his lap, needing to feel him, confirm that this wasn't all in his mind. 

Aaron felt lost, desperate and out of control but he couldn't stop touching, kissing, licking every piece of the beautiful man in his lap. Suddenly, Spencer pulled away, resting his forehead against Aaron's, breathing hard as if he had just run a marathon of his own. When Aaron, tried to fall back into the kiss, Spencer placed a hand on his chest to stop him.

"Aaron, wait..."

"No!" he snapped with more venom than he intended. "No more waiting. We waited before. We've been apart so long. I've waited for you for too long. I need you, Spencer. I never should have waited."

Spencer dove in then, kissing him so hard that their teeth clacked together and the pain made him realize this was real - no more nightmares, no more daydreams that would never come true. 

Reaching down, Aaron gripped under Spencer's thighs and swiftly stood, surprising the younger man with his strength and power. Licking and nipping down the lightly stubbled jaw, Aaron marched them down the hallway toward his bedroom. Once inside, he didn't bother to stop until they were both tumbling onto the bed. Nothing was going to stop them, not now, not this time, not ever again.

They rolled around, fighting for dominance, tearing at each others clothing, needing to touch, expose, see more of each other. Lips, teeth, tongues and fingertips roamed over every piece of exposed flesh as they relearned each other and discovered things they had denied themselves before.

Finally striped down, Aaron rolled them so Spencer was on top, his thighs nestled in the V of Aaron's spread thighs. 

"Please Spencer," he whispered, rolling his hips, dragging his hard cock against the one pressing against him. "Need you."

"Do you have..?"

"Bathroom," he directed. Once Spencer rose and slipped into the bathroom, Aaron sat up and arranged the pillows behind him so he was slightly propped up. When Spencer approached the bed, he smiled. Aaron was completely unable to do anything but smile back. Crawling back up onto the bed, Spencer kissed up his thighs, completely bypassing his aching cock before trailing up his chest before settling over him, knees on either side of his hips. Aaron watched as Spencer popped the lid of the lube before coating his fingers. As he moved to reach behind himself, Aaron reached out to stop him. Spencer looked down at him in confusion as Aaron leaned up to kiss him gently.

"Please Spencer," he all but begged. "I need you."

They sat like that for a long while, Spencer poised over him, staring into his intense chocolate eyes until he finally saw what he was looking for. Once again, he crashed down against the older man and Aaron would swear this passion was a tangible thing, rolling and pulsing between them. 

"Oh Aaron," he gasped when they finally pulled apart. "You are a gift."

"Waited too long," he complained. "Less talking, more fucking."

"Aaron," Spencer chided. "Such language. What should I do with a boy with such a dirty mouth?"

Aaron groaned loudly. So many thoughts, so many ideas, so many fantasies. But right now, he only wanted one thing.

"Need you, please. Need you in me. Please."

"Not going to argue with that."

Before he could complain any further, Spencer began to slide down the bed to settle between Aaron's parted legs. Placing kisses on strong, muscled thighs, Spencer reached down trailing his slick fingers behind Aaron's balls before swirling around his hole. 

"Have you touched yourself here, Aaron?" Spencer teased, nipping at the sharp hipbone. "I'll bet you've laid in this bed and fingered yourself open, dreaming it was me. Have you done that, Aaron?"

"Yes," the older man hissed, lifting his hips and silently begging to be breached. Obligingly, Spencer began the slow press, entering Aaron's willing body. He watched as he carefully began to stretch the passage he would soon be filling. Aaron tried to keep his eyes open, to watch Spencer and the beautiful expressions on his face, the concentration and amazement of this act, but he was so overwhelmed by all the feelings that his eyes slipped closed and he pressed his head against the pillows stacked behind him.

He felt lost. But this time it wasn't a bad lost. He wasn't alone or lonely. He was full and he only wanted more. 

"Please Spencer," he begged once more. "Need you. Please. I'm so empty."

"Shh," the younger man whispered as he pulled his fingers from the ready body beneath him. "I've got you, Aaron. I've got you."

He marvelled at how true those words really were.

Then he was there, too much and not enough all at the same time. Their eyes were locked as Spencer hung over him, pressing into him, stealing his breath and giving him his life back. Once they were locked together, they froze, staring at each other and the moment meant everything to them and them alone. The years melted away as Spencer began to move, slowly at first, just a slow roll of his hips into Aaron, testing and teasing. When Aaron wrapped his strong thighs around Spencer's thin waist, he groaned at the change in the angle, thrusting up in pleasure. 

"Jesus, Aaron," Spencer groaned as he reached down and gripped his hip before his hand trailed over the strong, defined thigh muscles. "You are magnificent."

He pulled out and slammed back in and Aaron nearly screamed in the pleasure of it all. Push and pull, give and take. It has hard and harsh and too much and not enough and for Aaron, it was perfect. It felt like minutes and hours and much too soon he was coming without Spencer ever touching his aching cock. As his pleasure began to recede, he felt Spencer stutter and pulse inside him, coming hard and filling him, in his body and in his heart.

They stayed like that for a long time, connected in the most intimate way and sharing their breath. Aaron refused to let the other man up, afraid that if he did, he would discover it was all just another dream, another fantasy his broken heart had to relive, would have to live through yet again. 

He didn't even realize he had started crying until he felt fingertips wiping the wetness from his cheeks.

"I'm so sorry, Aaron. It's okay. It's all over now. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere ever again."

Aaron held him close, clutching him tight, praying what he said was true because he couldn't do this again. It would well and truly break him to lose him again.

*************

Hours later, the two men stood in the kitchen, finishing up dinner when they heard the front door open. Aaron leaned over to press a small kiss to his lover's lips just before the teenager called out, "Dad? I'm home."

"In the kitchen, Jack."

As the boy turned the corner into the kitchen, he opened his mouth to complain about what they were eating or ask about the black SUV parked out front when he froze. 

"Spencer!?" Jack gasped out in surprise as his soda fell to the floor with a thud through his slack fingers.

Spencer chuckled lightly, "I seem to be having this effect on Hotchner men today."

"Spencer!" he cried again, before launching himself across the kitchen and into the waiting arms of the man he hadn't seen in much too long. "I thought...I thought you hated us." he gasped out through his tears. "I thought Dad drove you away. He said you were coming and you never came and I thought...of god, I thought Dad told you to stay away."

"Oh Jack," Spencer whispered into the boy's hair as he gently pressed kisses against the sandy blond locks. "I could never hate you. I had things I had to do before I could come to you guys. It had nothing to do with you or your dad. I promise."

"So you're here to stay?" he asked, looking up with a hopeful look on his face.

Spencer looked over at Aaron, a soft smile on his beautiful features. "What do you think, Aaron? Am I staying?"

Aaron smiled as he walked over, wrapping his arms around the two most important people in his life.

"Wild horses, Spencer. Just - wild horses."

**END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's done!! I hope this qualifies as a happy ending. Y'all had better send lots of cookies for Karl - I really had to fight him for this one but I think we are both satisfied with the ending. 
> 
> Thanks for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> This is an experimental style for me so I hope this works the way my brain and Karl intend it to.
> 
> Don't know why I'm so angsty right now. The plan is for a happy ending. Let's hope Karl agrees.


End file.
